


One Last Time

by titC



Series: First Times [4]
Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-03
Updated: 2012-06-03
Packaged: 2017-11-06 17:35:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/421525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/titC/pseuds/titC
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leaving. I also think it's one of the best I've produced. Especially the pr0n...</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Last Time

**Author's Note:**

> Beta: Krss, whose support, keen eye and kind words have helped me along. Thanks a lot!  
> Rating: NC-17  
> Disclaimer: Unfortunately, Star Trek and its universe are not mine! They belong to Paramount / Viacom. No infringement intended, no money being made.  
> This story is the fourth in the First Times series.

When he holds me from behind, his breath hot in my hair, our legs entangled and our hands clasped over my heart, it's like nothing can ever hurt me. Sometimes, he kisses my neck or tightens his arms around me, or we talk in low voices because we don't want to shatter the moment.

 

He is taller than me, and it's convenient for him to hold me that way. And I think it makes him feel all protective. He is, in fact. The few times I've seen him become violent were because of me: because I had angered him or because I was in danger and he was worried. It's nice, in a way.

 

Other times, he lets his head fall on my shoulder, he throws a limb or two over me, and I wrap my arms around him and I tell him meaningless little things, and I hold one of his hands and stroke it slowly, and I can feel his breath even out and slow as he falls asleep.

 

He is strong, but thin. He sometimes puts his head on my shoulder, more comfortable than his own – I like to hold him that way, to show him how much I need him and want him right there by my side.

 

I like to touch his hair when he sleeps, to caress his cheekbones – his face is so different from mine, and his skin – smooth and pale. I like to trace his straight, black eyebrows, his ear tips, his delicate neck – all of him, everything, everywhere, all the time.

 

But it is not enough.

He has just told me that he would be leaving me. He didn't say 'forever', but I heard it anyway.

 

We made our reports, answered all kinds of questions, were poked and prodded by doctors after our return to Starfleet Command, Earth. They said the crew's healthy, that I'm promoted to the admiralty, that Spock can have his own command of a scientific ship, that the Enterprise will undergo a major refit. Everything's fine, they said.

 

But I know they're wrong.

 

Spock is leaving.

Spock is leaving me.

***

I stay in a flat provided by Starfleet, before I find something more permanent. We haven't had time to search so far. You came in yesterday evening, said you couldn't stay with me, said you had to – that you didn't want to, but _had_ to. You looked down, and I could only stare at the crown of your head. At your hair I know is so soft and reminds me of a cat's. I love to pet you, and you always let me. I'm the only one who can.

And now you're leaving me.

 

You looked a bit lost then, your head bent, hovering in my doorstep. I dragged you inside, closed the door, and wondered why I hadn't slammed it in your face.

'Jim', you said. Just, 'Jim'.

No one can break my heart like you.

You reached for me, tentative, and we kissed, and we fell on the sofa, and we didn't seem to be able to go anywhere else.

 

We're still there now. You're lying with your head in my lap, and I try not to run a hand in your hair just to see you look a bit wanton, a bit dishevelled. I won't resist very long. How can I? If this is the very last time I can touch you, see you – I have to make sure I won't forget anything about you, I have to. Maybe it will only make it even harder to be without you – but it can't be, can it? It's already more than I can bear.

 

I see you struggle with yourself, you try to speak, to tell me something and I'm not sure I want to hear it. I let my fingers rest on your lips instead, but you kiss them. I can feel the tip of your tongue, it's as if you wanted to memorize my taste. Maybe that's what you're really doing. Why are you leaving me?

 

'Jim?' I don't answer. I can't. 'Jim, I must. I must prove... prove who I am. That I am Vulcan.'

Oh, Spock. It so often comes back to that.

'I am not myself anymore. I can only define who I am through you. I am losing myself, and you alongside with me, Jim. Do you understand? If I stay, I will let you mould me to what you want, and I will resent you for that. I would destroy you back, Jim, force your mind.'

 

You whisper those things as though you didn't want to say them aloud, but I hear them all the same. Have I done that to you? Could you do that to me? Somehow, I doubt it... but can I doubt you?

 

'Jim, it is not your fault. It is just who, what we are. I will learn there. Learn to be... learn to be Vulcan.'

What are they going to do to you, Spock?

You stare into my eyes, and you say, 'Jim, I am afraid.'

My chest is so tight I can't breathe; it feels as if I were out in space without a suit.

'There will only be facts left. But they know all the mind rules, the meditation techniques - I will learn them all. I will, Jim, because I must.'

 

Is it because of your father? Because he always saw you as the half-blood? Is it really _you_ you want to convince? Sarek once told me that your dependency to melds was too strong to be natural, to be Vulcan – that it was dangerous. Was it true?

'Without those, the need to meld will be stronger every day, and... and during the next Time, I will not be able to control – I would hurt you, for all the times you did not let me touch your mind. Oh, Jim, I do not want to go...'

 

I can only hold you. I can only touch you.

 

'I do not know, Jim, what will happen at the next pon farr – only that I will be a danger to you like I was that first time. They know secrets... Please, Jim, speak to me - I need to hear the sound of your voice, one last time?'

 

I stand up and take you with me in the bedroom, and I start to undress you. One last time, one last time – you've never let me touch you there since the first time, but you will let me today, because it is the last time, and I ask it of you. I demand it.

'Do you not see, Jim? I cannot resist you. I am only a mere extension of your will when – oh...'

 

Yes, you are mine, Spock – maybe you are right, maybe you need to leave to be your own man. But for now you are mine, and I want to hear you moan like you never did before.

 

You lie on my bed, half-undressed, your tunic undone, your long limbs sprawled over my bed – you take all the room. I can only see you.

 

'Jim – touch me, please...'

I've never seen you like that. Why? Why couldn't you always say that? Arch towards my hands like that?

How can I ever resist you, Spock? I take off what clothes I wear, and I join you on the bed. I can't have enough of you, ever – and for once you let me, you _want_ me to touch you – you begged me, and I shall oblige. You're so beautiful... My opposite, my other self, the best of what is Terran and what is Vulcan, my First Officer who makes all the other Captains envious of me – but you want to throw it away... Is there really no other choice? I kiss your chest, I watch you throw back your head and sigh and all I can think of is, never again. Never, ever again. I open your trousers, pull them back low on your hips, but I decide I will leave them on. Just like your shirt - I want to see it hanging from your shoulders, from your arms – I want to remember you always as this erotic dream. Maybe it's not who you truly are, but I will have you that way nonetheless.

 

I loom over you, one hand over your throat: you are mine. Mine. I start thrusting against you, against the soft hair on your groin and the coarser trail on your stomach, because you're mine. Your eyes become dark slits, I can see your nostrils quiver, your lips part – I think I want to come all over you, now. I'm so close...

 

I kneel down by the side of the bed, and I lick around the thin skin of the entrance to your genital pouch. I run my tongue over the slit again and again, roughly, I try to slide it inside and poke around, I am being quite aggressive – but your breathing is harsher now, you're almost panting! You squirm a little, and your cock starts pushing out. I am sucking you in earnest now, and you are so responsive... You sit up and brace yourself on one hand behind you, and your shirt is half-hanging there. Your other hand... I feel it come and rest in my hair, and then you suddenly push my head down on you and I cannot move. I remember the first time, the only time I've ever done this to you, and I clamp my lips and tongue and mouth around you, as hard as I can, and I establish a slow rhythm.

 

'No', you say. 'I cannot...' Then, 'please' – then you throw your head back and moan. I feel you tense, and the hand holding my head in place twitches. You mutter something in Vulcan and repeat it again, it becomes a mantra as you hunch over me and the hand that supported you creeps closer and turns into a fist in the sheets and blankets. I let one of my hands cover yours, and you grasp it as if it were a lifeline, I can feel tremors – are you fighting not to meld again?

 

I sit back and look into your eyes. They're even darker than usual. I can't hold back, I pounce on you and pin you down and your hand comes back to my nape and we kiss like there's no tomorrow. There _is_ no tomorrow - because tomorrow you leave for ever. I thrust against you, you're so slick, my Vulcan. My Vulcan. One of my hands wraps around us, and like that first time I feel tendrils entwine around our cocks and my hand like snakes around a caduceus, and I resume the rhythmic squeezing, with my fingers. I brace myself on an arm close to your head, and your own fingers come to frantically grasp mine by your ear, and it feels like you're crushing all the bones.

 

I won't last much much longer now.

I leave your lips and bury my nose in your shoulder, I lick your ear and neck and I bite your shoulder, because I want to remember your smell and taste and sighs and moans forever.

 

If you won't give me forever, Spock, I'll just take it from you.

 

You stiffen and gasp, and that's it, I can't go back – I'm coming. It hurts, Spock. Because it will never be again... how it hurts.

 

I keep a hand around your cock so it can't retract. You hiss and squirm, but I hold on. I try to stare you down, but you refuse to yield.

'You're mine, Spock.'

'Always.'

'Stay.'

'Let me go.'

I release you. Are you really mine?

 

We disentangle carefully and I watch your face. Your eyes are half-closed, your lower lip bitten and swollen, your cheeks still flushed, your hair black spikes all around your face. Where is my neat, prim and proper First Officer?

 

You reach out a hand to put a lock of hair back into place on my forehead, and you crinkle your eyes at me. I'll never see you smile just for me, ever again. I'll never see you smile, ever again.

'It is not necessarily for ever, Jim.'

'Am I that convincingly good?' I try my best lady-killer grin, and probably fail utterly. I don't want to talk about it.

'Jim... If I ever attain Kolinahr, I will be able to leave Gol. But... I will be pure, incarnate logic. I will not be able to remember, to understand... I will do what I must, before it is too late.'

'I will always remember, Spock.'

'Perhaps... perhaps you should not.'

'You do that to me, and then you ask me to forget? You come to tell me you're leaving, you give yourself to me like never before as some poisoned goodbye kiss, and you want me to forget?'

'I gave much more to you when we melded.'

I know. I am not even angry. Just tired.

'Stay the night?'

You curl your heat around me and pull up a sheet over us. I close my eyes.

 

Is it my fault? Or yours? Or is it really just our natures? Your hybrid, divided self and your instincts alien to both your species, and my sensualist cravings – and yet how can we ever be apart? How, Spock?

***

When I wake up he is gone.


End file.
